


Noir

by dramatic owl (snarky_panda)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, No one is leaping, Pre-Canon, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_panda/pseuds/dramatic%20owl
Summary: Sam struggles to understand Donna's desertion.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18





	Noir

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the genprompt_bingo challenge for the prompt: regret.

Sam's last glimpse of Donna was in shadow, two days before she broke his heart. They were parked in front of her place in the low rent district, and every streetlamp on the block but one was out. Sheltered in the front seat of his car, they listened in the dark to the rain pounding on the roof and talked until it slowed up a bit. Then they kissed goodnight and she got out of the car, and he watched her hurry up the slick walkway to her door, shoulders hunched against the rain, until she disappeared inside. She'd rushed in without turning around to wave or smile, and that last image of her dark silhouette moving away from him was permanently etched into his brain.

Why hadn't he seen it coming? Was it because his head was still in the clouds after such a wonderful night with her or had he willfully chosen to see what he wanted?

They'd spent the evening in one of the most romantic restaurants in town, absorbed in each other, in their own dreamworld, barely touching the food on their plates. Gazing into each other's eyes, conversing in soft, intimate tones about their shared hopes and plans, happily anticipating their marriage. It was pouring when they left the restaurant and they'd run laughing to the car with his long coat draped around them, holding it over their heads since neither of them had had the foresight to bring an umbrella.

"Sam."

The sound of his name awakened Sam from his daydream. Al had arrived and slid into the other side of the booth at some point without him noticing. Sam straightened in his seat, hastily dragged a sleeve across his moist eyes.

"I figured I might find you here. This is one place you didn’t come with her." His friend gestured to the bottle of beer in front of him. "How many are you up to?"

"This is the first."

"Oh. How long have you been here?"

"A while."

"Did you eat already?"

"I'm not hungry."

Al rolled his eyes, then motioned the waitress over and ordered a ginger ale.

"So, you've just been sitting by yourself in the corner here staring into space all this time?"

"I've been thinking. Trying to figure things out." He sighed and slowly shook his head. "I was with her that Thursday, Al. It was such a romantic evening...I've been over and over it in my head and I still don't understand."

"This is her _modus operandi_. I told you that."

"Al."

"I'm just saying, I knew Donna Elesee for a while before you met her. She runs. She gets scared and she runs. From everything. You're not the first guy she left at the altar. I warned you about it—"

He cut his friend off with a warning glare. Sometimes Al's cynicism, especially towards women, irked him, and he really didn't need him rubbing this in with an 'I told you so'. Especially when it was still so raw.

"What I'm trying to say is you've been blaming yourself and you shouldn't. You're not the one at fault here, pal."

Sam slumped back in his seat with a frustrated sigh, raked a hand through his hair. "It's not just that. I'm worried about her too."

"Why are _you_ worried about _her_?"

"Because I love her and I still care about her," he snapped. "The same way _you_ still care about Beth."

His words and tone cut the air between them and Sam averted his eyes, stared at the label on his beer, focused for the first time on the muted sounds of clinking glassware and other hushed conversations around him.

The hint of disdain in Al's voice, that Al might think he was a sap, had set him off, but Beth was a sore point, and it was still lousy of him to bring her up. Al was a dear friend and he'd been a lifeline since the day Donna left him at the altar. After drinking himself half-blind from two o'clock in the afternoon until who-knew-when, Sam had passed out...somewhere, he couldn't remember where, and didn't wake up until well into the afternoon the next day, on Al's couch, and he was sure he hadn't passed out there. Somehow Al found him that day, too, and managed to get him home, unfazed by any of it, and he'd been there for Sam at all hours of the day and night since then, patiently listening to him sob and rant and curse, rallying him when he was sulking, offering companionship and consolation, making it clear that he wouldn't have to go through this alone.

Their waitress chose that moment to bring Al's ginger ale, so neither of them said anything further until she was gone.

"I'm sorry, Al." He cautiously raised his gaze back to him. Al indicated it was okay with a careless wave of his hand, but Sam could see the hurt in his eyes. "I shouldn't have brought her up like that. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"I shouldn't have talked that way about Donna. I shouldn't have provoked you."

Sam groaned softly and rubbed at his temples. "She could've just told me if she was scared. I would've understood, we could've talked through it. I just want to _talk_ to her. I've tried calling but no one answers. I haven't been able to even leave a message. I went by her place a few times, but it was dark every time and nobody answered the buzzer. She didn't only not show up that morning. She's _gone_." He leaned forward on his elbows and wearily dropped his head onto his hands. "It's like she disappeared from the face of the earth."

On the Monday after that weekend, he'd tried calling Donna's work phone, and was left reeling when the person who picked up the line informed him she'd quit on Friday, the day before the wedding. It was the one thing he'd kept from Al. He still couldn't believe it.

Sam lifted his head, shifted, cupped his chin in his hand. "Maybe you're right, Al. Maybe I did misjudge her."

Since that day he'd begun to really question for the first time how well he knew his fiancé. They'd met at work, just as he started at the Starbright Project and she was about to leave. They shared a passion for science and mathematics, for classic movies, for poetry and stargazing. Both spoke French and longed to visit Paris. Both relished the rainy days and evenings when they would stay inside and curl up together, talking, reading, relaxing in comfortable silence.

There were countless things that he’d come to know and love about her. And yet, all but two of the guests invited to their wedding were _his_ family and friends. Donna didn't have much of a family. Her father left when she was only seven and she never saw him again. She wrote to her mother sometimes, but they didn't speak anymore; she never said why. In fact, she never talked about either of her parents and she had no siblings. When he really stopped to consider it, her background was almost a blank slate to him. The only two guests she'd invited were Verbena and Tina. Both of them still worked on the Starbright Project, and he knew both of them well. Donna met Tina at M.I.T., which is probably how Al found out Donna had been engaged before—from Tina. Donna had never mentioned it and Sam had chosen not to confront her about it. Maybe he should have.

Al was shaking his head. "She's the woman you love. You saw good qualities in her and you weren't wrong about them, Sam. I'm just angry that she did this to you."

Despite the grief that weighed him down, warmth filled his chest, and Sam couldn't help a fond smile at his friend's protectiveness. It was validating to have Al there sharing in his anger toward her. He’d been cycling through so many conflicting feelings, he couldn't think straight. And arcing over and coloring it all was the visceral memory of the romantic haze of that last evening he'd spent with her.

His thoughts drifted to that night again, and he reexamined it in an attempt to find new meaning, to figure out what signs he'd missed. At the restaurant, toward the end of the evening, she'd gone to the ladies' room and was in there for a while. When she returned to the table and he clasped her hand and told her he missed her, she smiled and said she was fixing herself up for him. Their exchange had been lighthearted and loving, but was there tension in her smile? Maybe even a little bit of sadness in her eyes? He'd seen it but hadn't registered it until now.

She'd been more subdued after that, too, and later, in the car, she'd declined his offer to walk her to her door the way he usually did, alluding to the rain as the reason. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time; he'd written it off as fatigue. Maybe he should've paid more attention.

Sam blinked his way out of his reverie, sensing before seeing that Al was watching him intently. "Huh?"

"I didn't say anything."

He sat up, took his first swallow of his beer, frowned in distaste, set the bottle back down. It was no longer cold and had started to go a little flat.

Al finished the last of his ginger ale and hitched a thumb toward the door. "Wanna get out of here?"

"I guess," Sam said absently, briefly becoming lost in thought again. "Al?"

"What?"

"You know, Donna and Tina weren't really as close as I thought. When I talked to Tina—after—she said she didn't know Donna wasn't planning to show. She said she hasn't spoken to her and has no idea where she is."

"And you don't believe her?"

"It's not that. I just thought they were closer."

"Okay. But how does it—how does knowing that help you? Especially at this point."

Sam shook his head, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Tina, at a loss to explain what it was he was beginning to process.

"Donna and I met at M.I.T., and then we both started working on this project around the same time," Tina had told him when he'd caught up to her after that weekend. "We hit it off right away. Even after she left this project we stayed in touch. I always liked Donna. She's so sweet and thoughtful. And brilliant. I'm not sure I can say we were really close. I don't know if she was close with anyone. She isn’t an easy person to get to know. She keeps things to herself, you know?"

"I guess she does play it a little close to the vest," he’d conceded.

"Yeah. It never bothered me really. We had fun together, we always enjoyed each other’s company. Donna was always willing to listen and offer help when I needed it, but she never asked the same for herself, even though she could’ve, any time. I wish she had. I can’t help but think that if she’d trusted me more, maybe I could’ve helped her out. Both times."

Sam's throat tightened and he blinked back threatening tears. Donna had only invited two friends to the wedding and hadn't asked either of them to be her maid of honor; she'd asked his sister Katie. How had he not seen until this moment how lonely and isolated she might have been? Was he really that oblivious, that self-absorbed? Or had she just hidden it from him too well?

"Sam?" Al's voice was filled with concern. He'd slid out of the booth and was standing beside the table, waiting for him. "Let's get out of here, Sam."

"We need to pay the check," Sam said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, shifted and reached back to take out his wallet.

"I paid already. Come on, let's go walk a little."

//

Al remained by his side during his entire hour-plus walk through town after they left the bar and grill. Neither of them had an umbrella.

"It's just a drizzle," Al said when Sam protested that he didn't have to accompany him in the rain.

"And it's dark."

"So?"

Sam walked aimlessly at first, sharing with Al the new details he'd thought about, the new insights he thought he'd gained. His feet eventually took him toward Donna's place as if they had a mind of their own. He glanced expectantly at Al when they turned onto her street, waiting for him to point out that this was a bad idea, but his friend said nothing about their destination.

"This is the rainiest June I've seen in this town," was all he said. "Seems fitting."

"Yeah, it does."

Sam had been grateful for the consistent grey skies and rain that month. Sunny days would've only made his mood even worse.

The building across from Donna's had a long awning that covered the walkway leading to its front entrance, and they stopped under it. Though the rain wasn't coming down hard, they were both damp after walking in it for so long. At least it was warm out.

They waited and watched, but the third-floor windows of Donna's apartment remained as dark as ever.

"Do you think maybe something happened in the restaurant that night?" Al asked.

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "You said she seemed different when she got back to the table. Assuming that you really did see something—"

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam demanded, rounding on him.

"I mean, you've been dwelling on it so much and twisting it up in your mind—maybe you've convinced yourself you saw something—"

"No." He cut him off vehemently. "I didn't imagine it. Her mood changed, Al. Something was wrong and I didn't heed it."

"Well, if you're right, maybe she saw someone or something that upset her when she went to the ladies' room."

"Enough to make her change her mind about the wedding? If that was the case why didn't she just tell me about it? Why did she leave without a word?"

"I don't know. But you're not a mind reader, Sam. Maybe you could've asked her about it, but it's not all on you. And everyone's smarter after the fact. Even a genius like you doesn't get everything in the moment." Al paused for a moment. "Do you think she's still in town?"

Sam glowered at Donna's building and shook his head. "She quit her job the day before the wedding," he bit out, finally admitting it to Al and waiting for the fallout.

"Oh." Whatever Al thought, it seemed like he wasn't going to give him a hard time about it. He appeared puzzled and scratched his head. "I gotta say, that's extreme, even for her. Quitting like that and burning bridges. Maybe something did happen. Did you try talking to Verbena too?"

"No. I thought about it, but she hasn't been around. For all I know she took off with Donna. Anyway, I already felt like too much of an idiot."

"Maybe she's just too afraid to commit to anyone. Her father left her mother, left her too, when she was at an impressionable age. Maybe even committing to a job or a career is too scary for her."

It really could've been as simple as that. Fear of abandonment. Al of all people knew about that. "Maybe. I just wish she'd talked to me."

They were quiet for a long time. Al finally broke the silence.

"You still wanna wait out here, Sam?"

He glanced up at the dark windows once more, swallowed the lump in his throat. "No. No one's there anymore, Al. Let's go home."


End file.
